


Grand

by Jenovahh



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Enemies to Lovers, F/M, Penis In Vagina Sex, Smut, Vaginal Fingering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-18
Updated: 2020-08-18
Packaged: 2021-03-06 07:01:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,508
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25965532
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jenovahh/pseuds/Jenovahh
Summary: He should hate you. Loathe you. Despise your very being. And while he does, it does not stop him from opening a portal through the void and right into your room.
Relationships: Elidibus/Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV)
Comments: 3
Kudos: 86





	Grand

“It’s a bit late to be coming one’s room this late, is it not?”

Your eyes have yet to open as you hear the telltale sound of the rift yawning wide. Unbothered, you lie relaxed on your bed in the Pendants, dressed in a silk nightgown that seemed incredibly luxurious for someone as hardy as the Warrior of Light. And usually you would wear more practical sleep wear…

But _he_ didn’t have to know that.

“Would you prefer I whisk you away before your companions in broad daylight?” The voice is masculine, the baritone of his voice rich like brandy and soothing like menthol. “If you have grown so bold…”

You hold up a hand to stop his speech, finally turning to face him on your side, not bothering to retain your modesty as the silk glides on your skin, riding up your legs. The nightgown usually reaches your calves (and it wasn’t like you didn’t have shorter ones), but even you can hear the slight hitch of your intruder’s breath.

Would that you could see the expression to go along with his gasp. Unfortunately, that insufferable, red mask is in place. Robes of white trimmed with gold shimmer in the low light of your room, clawed hands resting casually at their sides. Your eyes focus on rosy lips, watching how a pink tongue swipes over them quickly before a clawed hand reaches up to cover it as he clears his throat.

“Elidibus.” You acknowledge, choosing to not answer his question. You never liked thinking hard on what your friends would do should they find out you flirted (which, at this point was putting it lightly) with the enemy. _They could never understand_ , you had convinced yourself in your deepest nightmares, plagued by visions of a past you could not fathom. Visions you were not sure if they were your own, or perhaps--

“I admit, I was expecting you to arrive earlier.” You sigh, moving to sit up. You can feel his eyes on you beneath that mask; feel how his gaze trails across the bared skin on your shoulders, the hair thin straps of your gown the only thing protecting your modesty. “Had you not come when you did, I would’ve closed my eyes to rest for tonight.”

“Then pray forgive my tardiness,” Elidibus breathes, extending a clawed hand. “I would make it up to you, should you still give me the chance.”

You stare at the offered hand warily, feeling an abrupt surge of hesitation roll through you. All at once does the weight of all the teasing, the sly looks and wayward glances feel like they’ve caught up with you. He could easily spirit you away, never to return, having played the long con to earn your trust and have you play right into his hands. The Warrior of Light disappearing in the middle of the night in what was supposed to be the relative safety of her room…

“Having second thoughts?”

His voice is teasing, taunting. Bait, and a knock at your pride. Your thoughts must be written on your face, your inner turmoil an open book. He knows as well as you do that he is powerful; an ancient. Magic that mortal eyes have not seen in millenia, powers that your mind could not possibly comprehend.

But he is taking the same risk, is he not?

You have struck down two of the three, unsundered Ascians, leaving only the one in white, _The Emissary_ as the sole survivor. You've rolled it around in your mind how he could possibly bear to be here given that fact, knowing full well you have slain his brethren and could do the same to him.

"Do you think me afraid?" You huff, standing to your bare feet and closing the distance between you. Placing your hand in his, the cool metal of his claws nearly stings against your warmth. You do not flinch, giving nothing away.

"Warrior of Light? Eikon Slayer?" He scoffs, somehow knowing the adverse effect your titles have on you. "I do not offer fear. Merely...understanding."

You nod, running your fingers along his leathery gloves, tracing nonsensical patterns. You gaze at him from beneath your lashes, feeling how he tenses. "What shall we be understanding tonight then?"

Even beneath his cowl you can see his throat bob as he swallows. Being able to have him on edge in this way is far more of a power trip than dangling white auracite in his face could ever be. "You and yours seem to think us some unfeeling harbingers of doom," he starts, finally encircling your hand with his own. His claws bite into your skin just enough to be painful, but not enough to draw blood. "I thought I might follow in Emet-Selch's example, and show you what you fight against."

Before you can ask any further the void opens wide, and so do your eyes as your stare back into its inky depths. He gives you no warning and pulls you forward, your instinct making you dig your feet into the tile of your room, but his grip is too strong and you are pulled inside. Strangely, the darkness feels like a caress, its magic whispering across your skin like how the smoke of burning incense crawls along the floor. It feels like an eternity until you are pulled through to the city of Amaurot, still as pristine as Emet-Selch had left it. A chill washes over you, your body releasing a light shudder that does not escape your...companion's notice.

"Would you like a cloak, perhaps?" He offers, his hands already weaving dark fabric into existence. You stare at it warily, pouting as you do.

"Had I known where you would take me for our outing, I would've dressed more appropriately," you snark, taking the cloak from him. The material is softer than silk, so thin that it almost feels like water in your hands. With a smirk, you give him a sly look. "Would you assist me in putting it on?"

"Are you shards so incapable of the simplest of tasks?" He questions, and you swear you can hear an upraised eyebrow. Clearly you needed to be a little more...forward.

"Hardly." You snort, moving to put it on yourself but just as you move it lifts from your hand and drapes itself around you. Despite how sheer it is the warmth it provides feels akin to the pelt of a mammoth. "Thank you." You murmur shyly, pulling it closer to yourself.

Tucking his hands behind his back, Elidibus begins to walk. "This way, Warrior of Light." It is only due to your many encounters with him that you can hear the resentment which taints your title. "I doubt Emet-Selch spared the time to explain the structure of the true world."

"He did not explain much at all," You murmur softly, giving him a weak glare. Despite yourself, you follow behind him, gazing up at the tall towers that somehow reach further below past your sight.

As the two of you walk, he explains multiple functions of buildings, drawing you further into his world. Even though the recreation was of Emet-Selch's making, leaving it subject to misremembrance, it was so accurate that even Elidibus could traverse it easily. Listening unlocked a deep sorrow within you, a hole you could not quite place.

"Where did you frequent," you ask, cutting him off mid-explanation, "in your spare time?"

He pauses to look at you, studying you from behind the safety of his mask. "What makes you think I had such time available?"

"From our encounters I have gleaned you are a man devoted to duty," _Almost bordering on obsession_ , you add mentally, "But I would be a fool to think that in a world where you were nigh immortal, that you didn't have something as mundane as a hobby."

He allows himself a brief chuckle at that, his hand raising slowly. "You are more perceptive than most," he compliments, dark magic swirling around you, transporting you once more. As it fades you find yourself in a grandiose auditorium, curtains made of the finest velvet lining its walls, seats trimmed with gold. You spin in small circles as you take in its splendor, in how elegant it looks. It is a wonder how it manages to flaunt such wealth yet does not look gaudy or tacky in any way.

"Before I had assumed the mantle of Emissary," Elidibus begins, causing you to face him. His voice carries through the space easily, his dulcet tones practically surrounding you. "I would oft hold concerts."

Your eyebrows raise in surprise. "You were a musician?"

" _Am_ , Warrior." he tuts, waggling a finger. Just as he finishes the motion with a wave of his hand does he create a grand piano from thin air. Its glossy wood shines in the stage lighting, the black lacquer so polished you'd think you were looking in some twisted mirror. "Are you familiar with the arts?"

Biting your lip, you circle the piano, wishing to touch it but afraid of getting even one smudge on its surface. "I do not have time for such things," you admit, well aware of the irony.

He's aware of it too, an infuriating smirk gracing his pouty lips. "Then allow me this lesson," he makes a grand sweeping gesture with his arm as a piano bench weaves itself into existence, taking a seat with all the poise of a professional. "Let us see what untapped talent lies within you."

Feeling too much like you've lost the high ground, as you move to sit you take care to allow the robe to part, reminding him of what lies beneath. You cross one leg over the other, the silk riding up your thigh and you can hear a claw scrape against an ivory key. "By all means," you purr, daring to even scoot closer to him, leaving barely an ilm from his shoulder to yours.

"There seven notes, and therefore one key for each note, and they are the white ones," he explains. "They repeat themselves, from A, to G."

You lose yourself in his lesson, watching with mild fascination at his careful instruction. If he had other plans by bringing you here, he has surely lost them for he is so caught up in teaching you properly. You find yourself wishing you could see the skin of his hands beneath those gloves, and you catch your eyes drifting to the movement of his lips more often than they should. Unfortunately, it seems that your advances thus far have gone undetected, so you decide to turn on the charm.

Closing that small gap between you, you gaze at him from beneath your lashes, lips parted in a pout. "Would you play something for me?"

If your question is not enough to stop his lecture, the warmth of your body against his own is. His hood casts just enough of a shadow that you cannot see his eyes still, but you can feel the deep intake of breath. "I have nothing to play that you could possibly recall." He defends, tongue darting out to swipe at his lips.

"Does one attend a concert solely to hear things they have heard before?" you counter easily, going as far as to lay your hand atop his own that still rests on the keys. "Show me this skill you claimed to have."

However, Elidibus is not as prideful as Emet-Selch or even Lahabrea, and your barb bounces off. "I have nothing to prove to you, Warrior." His voice is firm, but non-threatening.

"Then why did you bring me here?" you question, pressing even closer to him. Your cloak has slipped from your shoulders, revealing your supple skin to glow under the stage lights. "We are enemies before we are companions. What brought you to the Warrior of Light's rooms to steal her away,"

Before you can finish the sentence he's pressed his lips to yours as best he can with his damned mask in the way. It takes you by surprise, but his sudden confidence gives way to hesitation, and you easily take control of the kiss. "Zodiark help me," he breathes, even though between the two of you, you're the only one who needs the air.

You reach to try and peel back his hood but his hands are like stone as they catch your wrists in their grip, the points of his claws pricking your skin. "That is an intimacy you've not yet earned." Despite the underlying threat in his voice, you can hear the hunger, the unabashed desire suffusing his words.

"How does one go about it then?" You rasp, pressing your chest against him. "How might I see the man beneath the mask?"

"I am no man," he rumbles, guiding your arms to link around his shoulders. "But I am not immune to...worldly pleasures. Even if it has been some time."

"It sounds like you've devoted yourself to duty too much," You comment, instead choosing to place kisses along his jawline, feeling how smooth his skin is. "Perhaps I may provide a distraction?"

"A distraction," he echoes, his hands trailing down your sides, feeling the curvature your nightgown refused to hide. "Very well."

Hands at your hips, he urges you to leave your spot on the piano bench to straddle his lap, the skirt of your gown riding even higher. His hands are gentle, but greedy, a shuddering sigh passing his lips as he gives the meat of your thighs a testing squeeze. "Has it been long for you?" you ask out of curiosity.

He huffs a bitter laugh. "Even in days of eld have I ever focused on my duty." Through with words, he brings your lips down to his own, slightly hesitant until past experience catches up with him, as if relearning how to nock a bow. He tastes divine, all dark, forbidden magic, cool under the heat of the lamps in the rafters. He wrenches control of the kiss suddenly, nipping at your lip, coaxing your tongue to twine with his as his hands push your gown up higher.

While most would fear his claws, the feel of them dragging up your skin only serves to make you quiver under his touch. Your hips roll against him, both from your own need driving your actions and to regain the upper hand. You succeed in pulling a gasp from his throat as his hands grip painfully tight, hard enough to elicit a whimper of pain that has the claws vanishing before you can speak against it.

“I liked those,” you comment, allowing him to tilt your head back to taste the skin on your neck, his tongue a mix of ice and fire as he licks a slow line along your collarbones. Unsure what to do with your hands, you give a desperate tug to his robes. “This is rather one-sided, don’t you think?” You give another roll of your hips, feeling the imprint of his length between your thighs.

“The privilege,”

“Is not yet earned, yes, I too, have ears,” you sass, grinding down harder, moaning as you feel just how rigid he is, feel how hot and hard he is beneath his robes. “I have bared my soul to you, Elidibus. There are a precious few who have known me this way.” With cautious fingers, your play with the hem of his hood. “Just for tonight.” You whisper, slowly pushing it back.

He lets you, lets the hood rest against his back to reveal long hair that you aren’t quite sure if it purple or silver or perhaps even both. You waste no time taking the strands between your fingers, feeling their softness, their silkyness, this move somehow igniting your passion even more as you press into him for a deep kiss. He groans deeply into your mouth, his hands in a rush to divest you of your robe. You won’t move your hands from his hair in favor of him pulling the gown off, so he simply turns it to mist, baring your nude body to his hungry eyes.

As his mouth trails lower, so do your hands, surprised to see his robes melt away with each thread you touch. Ilm by ilm, milky, unmarred skin is bared to your curious eyes, finding him lean and fit beneath his clothing. His skin is smooth, inhumanly perfect, silken to the touch as you run your hands across his torso as if you had never felt up a man in your life. Just as his mouth reaches a breast, your fingers graze across his pants, the threads evaporating and revealing his length, your hands immediately seeking out the prize you sought.

He seems to be painfully hard in your hand, a small glance between the two of you shows that the head of him is red to the point of nearly being purple, and you tut to yourself. “This won’t do,” lowering your hips, you slick him with your wetness, his arms clutching you to him as he gives a full body shudder.

“By Zodiark,” he rasps, totally breathless. You hum, pleased, glad he doesn’t notice how much your own sex quivers with how much you need him.

“Your piano playing is very well its own brand of foreplay,” you admit, gliding yourself along his length. There’s no way he wouldn’t slip on in, but still you raise yourself just enough to slip a finger inside, pausing your grinding.

“Have you always talked so much,” He growls, pressing a finger of his own inside you, making it your turn to gasp. His finger is longer, thicker, just the right amount to spread you for him in what must be his haste to get inside you.

“You don’t talk enough,” You laugh, arching your back as your walls flutter around his finger. You give him control, allowing him to slip a second finger inside. “Twelve above,”

“Silence,” he grunts, curling his fingers just so inside you. He give you little time to catch your breath as your toes curl from the sheer pleasure, leaning you back against the ivory keys, uncaring of the dissonance that rings throughout the auditorium. With hurried, yet careful movements, he lifts you high enough to sit atop them, placing himself between your thighs. There are no words as he guides himself into your wet heat, the groan torn from his throat nearly enough to send you over the edge.

“Elidibus,” you gasp, back arching off the glossy wood. Your arms clutch him by the shoulders, looping around to bring him down for a needy kiss as he slowly begins to stroke, pumping harder and harder until he loses himself in chasing his end. Your lewd sounds echo in the auditorium, your gasps and sighs making a lovely duet next to his grunts and groans. You take in everything; the way his lips are parted, how fiercely he grips your hips to bring you down on his cock.

His mask.

Reaching up, your finger tips brush his mask just barely before a hand grabs your wrist in a death grip, his lips pulled into a frown. “Don’t,” There is almost a desperation to his voice, a plea.

“Elidibus,” you whimper, reaching up with your other hand, lifting the mask ever so slowly. “Let me see you.”

He doesn’t stop you, the mask scattering into the air like petals, revealing the sharp features that most Ascians seemed to share. His eyes are similar to his hair, silvery and purple and so godsdamned beautiful that an inner part of you weeps. “Elidibus,” you choke out, pressing close to press your lips to his, moaning into his mouth at his renewed vigor. “Oh gods,”

He presses you down against the piano, eyes focused on your face as you come apart. He doesn’t stop his assault, his eyebrows furrowing as he comes near his end. He begins to lean forward, but you stop him, cradling his face in your hands so that you may watch him fall apart. Rapture overtakes him, your title a broken cry on his perfect lips, the feel of him coming deep inside paling in comparison to seeing his face as he is dragged under by the waves of ecstasy.

It is quiet in the afterglow, your hands caressing his face, allowing him to finally rest his head on your shoulder. Your fingers, light as a feather trail up and down his back, your lips press soft kisses to his skin. “Well?”

He is silent still, almost uncharacteristically so. You wait however, giving him all the time he needs. “It has...been some time.” He admits, caressing your hips just as tenderly.

“A good distraction then?” You ask, nuzzling your head into his neck.

He nods, choosing not to speak still. You do not mind it, deciding to not let words cloud this moment, especially when you know that when it is all said and done, only one of you may live.

**Author's Note:**

> More info about this work can be found [here](https://jenovahh.tumblr.com/post/626747934626791424/comm-08-grand-nsfw).


End file.
